


Sun Paths

by Chiharu



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Depression, F/M, Fix-It, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 10:43:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8010535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiharu/pseuds/Chiharu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The seasons change, and Saeran tries to separate his dreams from reality. Post-game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sun Paths

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place post-Seven's route and contains spoilers for his secret endings. Since this was originally published in 2016, it does not take into consideration Ray or V's routes. I'm not sure if this constitutes as "fix-it" because people can't be fixed, but I wanted everyone to do their damn hardest to support and love Saeran ;A;
> 
> Some notes: The lantern festival doesn't take place during lunar new years, but in September. I've only been to Seoul twice, so sorry for any additional inaccuracies.
> 
> Trigger warning for: Depression, death, PTSD, and canon-typical issues.
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely [hypernovaes](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hypernovaes/pseuds/hypernovaes)

In April, they move out of the Saeyoung's underground flat and into a 15th floor apartment in Gwangjin. Saeran knows this because he has thoroughly memorized the map of Seoul hanging in the living room of their new home. It brings him comfort to know the exact location of places and things, and he maps out the distance between Han Jumin's office in Gangnam and Zen’s agency in Gurogu on nights that he can't sleep.

 

The neighborhood is quiet, with tree-lined walking paths that curve around the Han river. The flowers are just starting to bloom the month they move in, and Saeran still remembers the inane conversation Kang Jaehee has with Saeyoung about hiring movers while Kim Yoosung laughs about LOLOL art in the hallway. They don't let Saeran move any of the furniture, not that he wants to anyway.

 

There's something pathetically sentimental about the idea of starting anew. Saeran doesn't care for it. In the earlier months of the move, he spends most of his time admiring the sky through the glass walls of the living room. It doesn't escape Saeran's notice that the glass is reinforced with industrial backing. Contrary to whatever his brother believes, Saeran has never attempted to tamper with it. He only knows because Yoosung tripped over Robocat during their loud welcome party and sent a tray of food flying. Like all other break resistant dishware in the house, the plates merely made a flat sound after bouncing off from the glass. Yoosung and Saeran’s sister in law had laughed while cleaning the mess up, and Saeran had found the idea of everyone easily dismissing such a clumsy mishap uncomfortable.

 

It's funny, really, that this apartment is carefully childproofed with care that their mother had never shown them.

 

Saeran thinks about these things at night, when moonlight filters through the windows of his room and cast strange shapes on the wall. Sometimes Saeran closes his eyes and thinks about resurrection and paradise. Sometimes he thinks and feels nothing. 

 

 

 

 

 

The toy shop is within walking distance of their home. In the beginning, his sister in law works at the store while Saeyoung spends hours building things in the smallest bedroom turned office. No one is surprised when Saeyoung's work starts flowing out of the office and into the living space, and sometimes Saeran finds blueprints for robot birds tossed under children’s books.

 

"Why are you making this?" Saeran asks when he spots Saeyoung hunched over the kitchen counter. Instead of making food, Saeyoung is tinkering with the circuit of a talking toaster. "No one would buy this."

 

"Personal project," Saeyoung manages to say with a screwdriver between his teeth. "Saeran-ah, are you hungry? There's soup in the fridge. If you're gonna eat it, can you heat some up for me too?"

 

It's not a real question. They both know Saeran's medication cocktail forces him to maintain a regular eating schedule. When he skips meals and ignores his pills, Saeran feels overwhelmed by exhaustion and nausea. It's nothing new to him, but there's something unpleasant about Saeyoung's face on days that Saeran can't get out of bed.

 

Saeran doesn't respond, but nowadays Saeyoung has managed to read his silence. Robocat is perching on top of the fridge, watching them, so Saeran shoos it away before opening the door. He finds the soup on the top shelf with a sticker on the lid. _Share with your brother!_ it says in loopy handwriting. He crumbles up the note and puts the dish in the microwave.

 

"Psst! What do you call a toast wearing a beret?" The toaster asks through the fizzing of Saeyoung's soldering iron.

 

Saeyoung leans over the counter and grins. "What do you think?" He pouts when Saeran doesn't respond.

 

"French toast!" The toaster says after a beat, and the sound of static applause filters out of its speakers.

 

"We gotta work on your delivery, pal," Saeyoung tells the machine just as the microwave dings. When Saeran gets up to retrieve the food, Saeyoung calls after him. "I'll make you laugh one day!"

 

That day is still very far away, Saeran thinks.

 

 

 

 

 

Saeran has a reoccurring dream about the park near their childhood home. It's half memory and half fiction, because Saeran has only visited once, before Saeyoung began sneaking off to church. In the dream, they find a field of red flowers, and Saeran is reminded of the crimson of their mother's hair and the tenderness of her smile in her rare moments of lucidness. "It's pretty," Saeran says.

 

The flower Saeyoung points to is particularly beautiful, with splashes of gold on the inner folds of overlapping petals.

 

“Those are marigolds,” a gardener tells them as he hacks away at weeds. “They can grow in any soil, but they require lots of sunlight.” His back is barely turned when Saeyoung plucks the flower out of the ground.

 

“It’s just like you.” Saeyoung beams.

 

Saeran never gets to answer, because Saeyoung soon disappears into the flower field. Saeran tries to follow him but stumbles upon Rika, who tells him that Saeyoung is gone. The events of his dream tend to diverge at this point, but Saeran always wakes feeling cold and aching.

 

 

 

 

 

Summer in Seoul is hot and humid, and Saeran hates the way clothes cling to his skin after short trips to the convenience store. He still has conflicting feelings about being outside, but Saeyoung insists that they all go for walks in the evenings. Saeyoung, who has a tendency to pet every stray cat in the neighborhood, seems unperturbed by Saeran's silence on these walks. Today, Saeran sits on the bench while Saeyoung feeds the ducks by the pond.

 

"Ducks don't eat Honey Buddha Chips," his sister in law says in the face of Saeyoung's pout. She hands Saeran said chips and pulls a loaf of bread from her purse, laughing when Saeyoung skips off with it.

 

"Is he an idiot?" Saeran mumbles when his brother runs into a flock of alarmed looking geese. Saeran opens the plastic bag.

 

"Mmm." A thoughtful hum follows. "What do you think?"

 

The chips are the perfect combination of sweet and salty. "What I think doesn't matter."

 

"Of course it matters," she says and takes a seat on the bench, careful not to touch him. Saeran's therapist says that he'll get used to physical contact again with time, but he knows there's a difference between accepting something and wanting it. "You're important to us, Saeran-ah."

 

Saeyoung says this all the time: At night before they go to sleep, in the car when they drive to doctor’s appointments, and on bad days when Saeran locks himself in the bathroom. The latter is the hardest for him to swallow, because Saeyoung is an ugly crier whilst Saeran barely has the energy to summon tears.

 

"It's a process," she says with a small smile. When Saeran doesn't reply, she hands him a bottle of PhD Pepper and laughs when he immediately grabs it.

 

Saeyoung chooses then to reappear. "Share," he says and makes a grabby hand motion for the PhD Pepper. The bottle is almost empty, but he still grins wildly when Saeran hands it over.

 

"Stupid," Saeran mumbles, but all he gets is a smile in response.

 

 

 

 

 

 

In June, Saeran gets dragged to the opening of Zen's new musical. Any objections Saeran has are overridden with a simple "Zen is our family and we need to support him." 

 

"It's truly an honor to have front row seats," Jaehee says when they meet her in the lobby. Her boss is nowhere to be seen, but she doesn't seem bothered by this fact. "Everyone has been anticipating the show for months. I hope you enjoy the performance, Saeran-sshi."

 

Saeran rubs idly at his arm. "I doubt it."

 

"He's a tough critic," Saeyoung says with an elaborate shrug. "Saeran didn't even enjoy photos from my performance as Ms. Mary Vanderwood."

 

"Hyung!" Yoosung wines. "Stop terrorizing Saeran with photos of you cross-dressing."

 

Saeyoung just grins. "It's art!"

 

"Of the highest level," Saeran's sister in law agrees. She shares a high five with Saeyoung that's met with various levels of exasperation.

 

The performance is entertaining but lacks substance. The most interesting part, probably, is when Zen performed a musical number in a prince costume. Saeran feels vaguely uncomfortable to find Jaehee in tears by the end, but Saeyoung just winks at him knowingly.

 

"Did you enjoy Zen's dashing performance?" Saeyoung asks.

 

"No," Saeran says. Real life lacks magical resolutions and happy endings. Saeran stopped believing in fairy tales a long time ago.

 

Saeyoung just tsks. "That's a shame. I was gonna ask you to help me improve the algorithm on Zen's tripter bot."

 

Saeran is opening his mouth when Jaehee steps forward.

 

"I understand if this was not your genre of choice." Jaehee pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Perhaps I can make some suggestions? I have seen Zen-sshi's entire filmography. I'd be happy to recommend other performances and lend you the DVDS."

 

"You're in for it now," Saeyoung stage-whispers.

 

They're interrupted when a staff member leads them into Zen's dressing room, and Zen proceeds to spend the next ten minutes flirting with Saeran's sister in law. By the time Zen takes her hand and starts waltzing her around the room, Saeran asks, "aren't you jealous?"

 

"Nope." Saeyoung bounces on the balls of his feet. "I'm a much better dancer."

 

"Liar," Saeran says, loud enough that only Saeyoung can hear. 

 

Saeyoung just hums in reply.

 

 

 

 

 

Saeran has only been to the toy store a handful of times, but he'd be stupid not to be aware of its success.

 

"Trust Han Jumin to invest in a fruitful business venture," Zen says when they throw a party for the 1000th toy sold. It's late summer, and a series of magazine articles orchestrated by C&R Inc. has sent Saeyoung's new line of water splashing whale toys on permanent back order.

 

"I don't know how he's producing them so fast," Jaehee confides over the messenger while reviewing numbers from the accountant she assigned. They all know that without a firm hand, Saeyoung will probably reinvest all of his earnings into another flashy car.

 

Jaehee probably wouldn't enjoy the knowledge that on nights Saeran can't sleep, Saeyoung stays awake with him and works on toys. There's something soothing about the methodical sound of gears turning, and Saeran is usually asleep by the third or fourth whale assembled.

 

Tonight, however, Saeran wakes up with a jolt. His normally bright corner room lined with windows is enclosed in darkness. Saeran struggles against the weight on his shoulder before he realizes it's Saeyoung’s hand keeping him steady. His entire body feels cold. The evidence of his thrashing lingers on the floor with the rest of his bedding.

 

"Saeran-ah, it's me."

 

"I know." Saeran turns away.

 

"You were screaming in your sleep," Saeyoung says softly. "It was just a nightmare."

 

Traces of the dream are already fading from the edge of his subconscious, but Saeran stills feels unhinged and raw. The clock on the night stand displays 3:04 AM, and Saeran wonders if Saeyoung had been asleep or awake fiddling with another project. He stares when Saeyoung goes to the closet and picks through a tall pile of long-sleeved shirts.

 

"Your clothes are soaked. Won't you change into something warmer?"

 

Saeran knows that Saeyoung won't force him. Yet, he loathes the thought of Saeyoung seeing his tattoo. "Turn around," he demands, and Saeyoung obeys with a hum. He's done changing when Saeyoung takes a seat by the bed. "What are you doing?"

 

"I'll stay until you fall asleep."

 

The idea of Saeyoung staying with him used to be Saeran’s only comfort, back when their mother used to chain Saeran in his room. Now, the offer just seems hollow and insincere.

 

"Leave me alone," Saeran hisses, frowning when Saeyoung takes his time to pick pillows up from the floor. "I said-"

 

"I'll just sit here." Saeyoung dumps a blanket on Saeran's body. "I won't make a sound, I promise."

 

Promises are just lies disguised by pretty words, and unsolicited kindness is pity of the lowest form. Saeran feels himself seething. "I hate you! I don't want to see you here. You're the reason I'm like this!"

 

"Yes, you're right."

 

Emotions flood Saeran in waves, and he knows he's hovering over the edge of something dangerous. He feels like he's twelve again, and Rika has just told him that Saeyoung is never coming back. "I hate you so much! You ruined my life! Stop acting like things are okay just because you’re happy now!"

 

"I know," Saeyoung says. He doesn't dodge when Saeran throws the clock at his face. The force is enough to knock him back, and the crash that follows is made worse by Saeyoung's lack of retaliation. Saeran is aware of his heart pounding and his sister in law calling for them in the hallway. It dawns on him that the door is locked to keep her safe.

 

Saeran has fantasized a lot about making Saeyoung bleed. Yet, the sight of him with a hand over his cheek is the opposite of satisfying.

 

"Hit me if it'll make you feel better," Saeyoung tells him with a wretched smile. "You're right. Everything is my fault, but I'm not going to leave you again."

 

"Don't," Saeran says. In a moment of clarity, his rage is replaced by the daunting realization that he hurt someone again. It's not fair, he thinks. No matter how hard Saeran tries, the desire for chaos always wins. "Just... Leave me alone."

 

Saeyoung takes that as his cue to step forward. When Saeran doesn't respond, Saeyoung wraps his arms around him. "You can hurt me all you want, but I won't give up on you. Hate me, but don't hate yourself, Saeran-ah."

 

The truth is that Saeran doesn't know how to stop. He has tried, in vain, to dissociate the person he is now from what he's done in the past. Some part of him has accepted that Saeyoung will always be the stronger one, and that Saeran's weakness is what made him like this. Not their mother. Not Rika. Not even Saeyoung's betrayal.

 

"Don't go," he says into Saeyoung's shirt at last. Saeyoung is warm and smells of laundry detergent. The solidness of his body is a stark contrast against the quivers of Saeran's heart. They're in the same space, yet Saeran wonders how they can still feel so far apart.

 

In the morning, Saeran wakes to find Saeyoung curled up in bed next to him. He doesn't remember how they fell asleep, but the sight of the bandage on Saeyoung's cheek makes Saeran's stomach churn. The remnants of the clock have been cleaned up from the floor, and someone has left two glasses of water on the bedside table.

 

The sunlight casts a soft glow on Saeyoung's sleeping face. He looks tired, the dark circles under his eyes more evident than ever. Saeran wishes that there really is a paradise devoid of suffering. Maybe, in another universe, they can both be uncomplicated and free.

 

 

 

 

 

Surprisingly, Yoosung is the one who drops by the most. Saeran thinks that their proximity to SKY university is no excuse for the visits, and sometimes he still recoils at how easily he can see Rika in Yoosung. Those are the visits Saeran spends in his room, going through Saeyoung's music collection. Saeran thinks that Yoosung has gotten the hint by now, so he's justifiably annoyed when his afternoon alone is interrupted.

 

"They're not here," Saeran says after opening the door. "Try the store."

 

Yoosung's smile dims a little, but he seems determined to hide his disappointment. "Oh! That's fine. Do you mind if I come in?"

 

"Why?"

 

"Have you eaten?" Yoosung asks instead of a real answer. He lifts the bag in his right hand. "I brought food!"

 

"Fine," Saeran says, frowning when Robocat jumps off the couch to greet Yoosung.

 

If Yoosung is bothered by the silence, he makes no mention of it. In fact, Yoosung seems perfectly content by himself, and Saeran is ready to return to reading his science encyclopedia when Yoosung sets a plate in front of him. "Eat it while it's warm~ I put the extras in the fridge for Hyung and Noona!"

 

"Why are you here?" Saeran asks again, just as Yoosung picks Robocat up. "What do you want to say to me?"

 

Yoosung scrunches his nose up. "Do you play games?"

 

"What?"

 

"You asked what I wanted to say," Yoosung replies with a sheepish smile. "This was the first topic I could think of... Ah, I guess I'm bad at small talk?"

 

Saeran stares.

 

"You may not believe it, but everyone at RFA cares about you." Yoosung says, his eyes large and frustratingly genuine. "Hyung told me to not pressure you over this, but sometimes I feel like you’re the only one who understands what happened to Rika-noona."

 

Saeran wishes this was the case. In reality, the memories of his days at Mint Eye are fuzzy at best. The despair and loneliness tied to that dreadful place are things he prefers not to revisit. What Saeran does remember, between intermittent periods of hollowness, is how desperately he had clung to Rika's words. In his blindness, Saeran had truly believed the rage and hurt that encompassed his whole being made him stronger.

 

"I don't have the answers you're looking for," Saeran replies at last, staring at his hands. How could he understand Rika's motivations when he barely understood himself?

 

Yoosung sighs and sets Robocat down. "I'm sorry for what Noona did."

 

"It's not your fault," Saeran says automatically. It's a phrase he's been forced to repeat in therapy, but Yoosung is the first person he has said it to with sincerity.

 

The smile that breaks across Yoosung’s face is extraordinary. "Okay!" He says. "Now eat up! I hope you like the food."

 

Saeran looks down. The sandwich is from a western diner nearby-- a weird combination of apples, ham, cheese, and honey mustard. "This is my favorite," Saeran says in surprise.

 

"I know." Yoosung grins. "Saeyoung-hyung's too. Twins are quite frightening, don't you think?"

 

"Yes," Saeran agrees.

 

 

 

 

 

Chuseok arrives faster than Saeran expects. He has no particular attachment to the holiday, for they never had the luxury of celebrating as kids. Saeyoung doesn't press him to participate in any of the traditional rites, but he does order enough food to last them a week. Saeran is picking through a tray of rice cakes when his sister in law comes back into the living room with three sets of hanboks.

 

"We gotta take a family portrait!" Saeyoung explains with a mouthful of food. He lets Saeran get first pick and takes his sweet time making his wife help him into the other hanbok. "Don't I look handsome?"

 

Saeran mumbles "no" the same time she insists "yes!"

 

"Are you aware that we look the same?" Saeyoung mock-whispers. He cackles when Saeran shoots him a glare.

 

“You both look very handsome.”

 

Any further complaints Saeran has are forgotten when Saeyoung freezes at the sight of a familiar camera on the shelf. “Honey,” he says stiffly. “Where did you find this?”

 

“In the storage room… Is something wrong?”

 

Saeyoung touches the camera lightly, like it wields a power over him. “This belonged to V. He gave it to me when I first joined the agency. V taught me all about composition and lighting, even though I only ever sent him joke photos of me.” Saeyoung’s voice is brittle, but he sighs when his wife sets a hand on his arm. 

 

"Do you miss V?” She asks gently.

 

“I don’t know.” Saeyoung’s grasp tightens, and Saeran suspects the camera will crumble under the intensity of his hold. “Sometimes I miss having him as a friend and a mentor, but then I get _so angry_.”

 

Saeran understands this more than anything. Resentment is like drinking poison and thinking it’ll hurt anyone but yourself. 

 

“I know logically that everything he did was to protect us, yet I can’t help but blame him.” Saeyoung closes his eyes, and Saeran sees, for the first time in years, that they’re not so different after all.

 

“I’m sorry. I’ll just put it bac-”

 

Saeran snatches the camera. “Stop running away.” Saeran wants to say that he’s still here and that he won’t hide from a man who’s already dead, but his mouth feels heavy and full.

 

Saeyoung, however, seems to understand. “Okay.” 

 

The photos turn out well in the end. Saeyoung’s favorite is predictably a candid one taken before they’ve fully figured out the timer options. He sends it over the messenger and leaves a copy on their refrigerator, next to a photo from his wedding. In the picture, Saeran’s sister in law is giggling while Saeran turns towards Saeyoung, his mouth open midway around a sentence. It’s a nice contrast from the stiffness of Saeran’s posture in the wedding photo.

 

It’s a process, Saeran thinks. 

 

 

 

 

 

In December, the stores gets hit with a wave of Christmas shoppers. Saeyoung lasts a week without sleeping before he calls for reinforcements. 

 

“I knew you needed me!” Vanderwood’s voice carries through Saeyoung’s phone. It’s so grating that Saeran looks up from playing his puzzle game on the PSP. “You know it wasn’t easy being your handler all these years and having to wipe your ass! Now, let’s talk about my hourly rate.”

 

Vanderwood visits a day later. “Hey brat,” he says when Saeran opens the door. Thankfully, Saeyoung soon appears and ushers Vanderwood into the office, where they spend days working on the shop’s growing back orders. 

 

All in all, Saeran doesn’t expect a legitimate present come Christmas. Yet, Saeyoung has the audacity to wait until the end of their fried chicken dinner to pull out a large, badly wrapped item. “Saeran-ah, this is from the both of us!”

 

Saeran feels vaguely anxious. He’d spent his untouched allowance on a matching scarf set for them, mostly because he found it difficult to shop for a couple who has everything. 

 

“Open it!”

 

The wrapping paper is only halfway off when Saeran feels his throat clench. 

 

“It’s an ice cream maker,” Saeyoung explains uncertainly. “I know your favorite used to be chocolate, but you can mix whatever flavor you like… Ah. It’s okay if you don’t like it. I just thought… I owe you a lifetime supply of ice cream, so-”

 

“Are you an idiot?” Saeran demands. 

 

Saeyoung’s face is torn between concern and guilt-- an expression he perfected from a young age. 

 

“I do like ice cream,” Saeran continues as he touches the slope of the machine. It’s red like the color of their hair, which makes him feel more brazen. “But what I liked the most was going outside and eating it with you.”

 

For once, Saeyoung doesn’t have a smart comeback. He only manages to close his mouth when his wife gently nudges his shoulder.

 

“We have ingredients, right?” Saeran asks. “I want to make some now.”

 

They spend the last few days of the year toying with the ice cream maker. The turning of the new year is spent with all three of them on the couch, recovering from Saeyoung’s salted fish gelato recipe. Under the warmth of the space heater and with Saeyoung’s legs spread across everyone’s laps, the midnight countdown almost seems underwhelming. Saeyoung once said that time is relative and meaningless. Yet, Saeran can’t help but feel that with the changing of the year, he has shed another layer of second skin. 

 

 

 

 

 

Snow comes in January, dusting everything in a crisp layer of white. Saeyoung, who seems to live in a tank top and that black hoodie, comes back from the store one day and sneezes in Saeran’s face. He kicks off wet boots and rubs his nose red with tissues. “I miss my impenetrable, heat controlled dungeon.”

 

Saeran tsks and closes the curtains on their glass windows. It’s a huge source of energy loss, but he knows they keep it open for him to admire the snowfall. His joints ache in cold weather-- a known side effect of his medication. Recently, Saeran finds himself stealing Saeyoung’s sweaters and hogging all the blankets in the apartment. 

 

“Jumin-hyung wants us to expand the shop,” Saeyoung says with his head on the arm of the couch. “I can’t sell out! I’m a leader in innovation! The Prince of Toys! Although, a jester may be more appropriate...” He’s busy cackling when his wife comes back to announce that the bathtub has been filled. 

 

Saeyoung shoots up from the couch and tugs on the sleeves of Saeran’s sweater. “Come~” 

 

Saeran expects another silly request, like assistance with washing Saeyoung’s nest of a hair. He’s surprised to find the tub half filled and Saeyoung sitting on the edge. Gingerly, Saeran does the same and dips his feet into the water.

 

“Your doctor contacted me.”

 

His sister in law has also thrown a floating rubber duck into tub, so Saeran nudges it with his foot. “Which one?”

 

“The one who looks like JYP.” Saeyoung tries to school his face into a poor imitation of Saeran’s neurologist. “He wants to start weaning you off sleeping pills.”

 

“Fine,” Saeran says, because the pills have only given him a series of strange and uneventful dreams. He still dreams sometimes of the marigold field, but a more recent one involved Zen dancing with a giant racoon. 

 

This elicits a sigh from his brother. “Saeran-ah, you’d tell me if you’re not doing well, right?”

 

Saeran considers this. His bad days are now better than what his good days used to be. Getting out of bed is still taxing, but Saeran is starting to realize it’s more of a personal preference. On those mornings, Saeyoung will come coax him out of his blanket cocoon with promises of food. With the passing days, his mind feels less and less hazy. “Don’t worry about me,” he says.

 

“I’ll always worry about you.” Saeyoung nudges his knee against Saeran’s. 

 

“Why are you being so sappy?”

 

Saeyoung kicks at the water, making it splash against Saeran’s calf. “I'm trying to be more honest.”

 

Honesty was never a luxury Saeran could afford. Even in Mint Eye, he felt the need to hide an aching desire to be with Saeyoung. They say twins are two parts of a whole, but Saeyoung has always felt like an extension of himself. His disappearance had been a forceful amputation, leaving Saeran tender and raw. 

 

Planarians can regenerate body parts in one month, but Saeran is still struggling from Saeyoung’s departure seven years later. It’s ironic to think that Saeran can’t even rival the fortitude of an Earthworm. Maybe there really is magic on which they stand, a secret that only people like V and their mother can glimpse once they’re buried in the Earth. 

“We both have a lot to work on,” Saeran says eventually, when the water is lukewarm.

 

Saeyoung nods. “We’re getting there.”

 

 

 

 

 

Around Seollal, they go to Cheonggyecheon to see the lanterns. The stream courses through downtown Seoul, where people gather to celebrate the lunar new year early. When they were younger, Saeyoung once brought home a paper lantern from church and hung it over Saeran’s bed. They did their best to hide it from their mother, and the thought of it brings Saeran conflicting feelings as he watches colorful ones light up the walking paths.

 

They meet Yoosung and Jaehee at Dongdaemun, where everyone discusses Jaehee’s rare time off and Yoosung’s impending graduation. Saeran is already hungry when Zen appears, decked out in ridiculous clothes and a face mask that attracts more attention than not. 

 

“Zen-hyung is getting really popular these days,” Yoosung explains while they share skewers of fish cake. “His drama just started airing, and his face is literally everywhere.”

 

This, Saeran already knows. Saeyoung has made it his personal mission to document Zen’s rise to fame, and Saeran has to play the photographer while his brother poses outlandishly with billboards and yogurt packages. Once, they almost got kicked out of a restaurant when Saeyoung got too handsy with the poster of Zen advertising soju. 

 

The perpetrator is busy blowing air at his pancakes and winking at his wife. Saeran bites the inside of cheeks before he says something frustratingly sentimental. 

 

“Zen-sshi met the producer at the last RFA party,” Jaehee explains when Yoosung and Zen leave to procure them drinks. “It’s a shame we can no longer hold parties.”

 

Saeran understands that his sister in law no longer wants to fill the role Rika left behind. There are too many memories tied to that apartment. As far as he knows, Saeyoung had purged everything and rented it out. 

 

“I watched the DVDs you lent me,” Saeran employs Saeyoung’s skills of diverging the conversation. “The vampire one was good.”

 

“Of course.” Jaehee nods knowingly. “ _Dracula_ was a wonderful mixture of drama and suspense. The score is not the best, but Zen-sshi’s performance carried the musical.”

 

Yoosung returns then and hands Saeran a warm can of soup. “Do you like horror movies? We should go see the new one coming out! With Saeyoung-hyung and Noona too!”

 

When Saeran turns around, he finds Saeyoung looking affectionately at him. Fondness is an embarrassing emotion, so Saeran looks down and smiles into his soup. “Yeah,” he says. “I’ll look forward to it.”

 

 

 

 

 

Saeran doesn’t meet Jumin again until the one year anniversary of V’s death. He feels strange visiting V’s grave with everyone, but Saeyoung insists that it’s important. Nowadays, Saeran finds it easier and easier to believe him. While Zen and Jaehee take turns cleaning the grave, Saeran wanders off to a clearing in the graveyard. It’s been raining for a week, and the ground feels mushy under Saeran’s feet. This is why he’s surprised when Jumin joins him, casually indifferent of the mud on his expensive shoes. 

 

“Jihyun was always the more talented one,” Jumin says, apropos to nothing. “I often envied his ability to empathize with other. It’s evident now that he was too driven by his emotions.”

 

“Why are you telling me this?” Saeran asks.

 

Jumin adjusts the cuff on his sleeves-- something Saeran recognizes as a nervous habit. “I want you to know that neither Rika nor Jihyun were terrible people. Like you, they were simply victims of terrible circumstances.”

 

“For someone who’s gone out of his way to avoid me, you sure have a lot to say.”

 

“That is incorrect. Rika was extremely depressed and schizophrenic. In some ways, she really did give up on the world and leave us two years ago. Jihyun still saw her as the woman he loved and tried to protect her. It’s unfortunate that you came across their path, but it’s unhealthy to hold onto any lingering resentment towards them.”

 

Saeran wants to laugh. “You have no right to lecture me.”

 

“I’m simply stating the truth.”

 

“The truth is a joke. You know I’m the one who killed your friend.” 

 

Jumin _must_ have known, when his men stormed the compound and found Saeran with the gun, that V’s death was no suicide. This thought has crossed Saeran’s mind countless times in the last year. Some inner part of Saeran that craves chaos wants to incite Jumin, to see if he ever suffered the way Saeran has. 

 

“You didn’t kill Jihyun,” Jumin says, his voice even and sure. “Despair and desperation killed him. He’d been dying ever since Rika left RFA. No one blames you.”

 

The concept of forgiveness is still foreign to Saeran. He can’t grasp how everyone in RFA wields it so easily, like a shield that protects them from pain. 

 

“And to clarify, I was not avoiding you. I’ve been busy with a merger for the better part of this year. Assistant Kang can attest to that.” Jumin pauses. “This may be hard for you to accept, but Saeyoung is a part of my family. I will do everything in my power to protect you both.”

 

Saeran doesn’t know how to respond to that, but he’s saved when Jaehee appears. “Mr. Han, please do not duck out of cleaning duty.”

 

“I’m coming,” Jumin says and gives Saeran a look.

 

Saeran pauses for a moment, then follows him. 

 

 

 

 

 

The weather is just beginning to get warmer when Saeyoung decides that he wants hotpot. On his whim, they assemble ingredients while the television blasts music videos from a pop duo. The stew is already simmering when Saeyoung realizes they’re short on cheese. “I’ll go grab it from the convenience store!” He declares and is out of the door before anyone can reply.

 

“Always so energetic,” Saeran’s sister in law says fondly.

 

Saeran nods and helps her unwrap another block of tofu. He’s almost done chopping it when a sense of dread overwhelms him. This has only happened a few times before, the most prominent being the day Saeyoung disappeared. Saeran has never given much thought to the idea of twins’ intuition, but his blood runs cold when the sound of an ambulance carries in from the window.

 

Saeran makes a run for the door, ignoring the concerned call of “Saeran-ah, where are you going?!” behind him. The ride down in the elevator feels like an eternity, and Saeran is only two steps out of the building when he’s greeted by the sight of a crowd. A black car has completely veered off the road, the hood now wrapped around a tree. Two emergency techs are pulling a stretcher out of the ambulance. Saeran can hear the murmuring of _it was a drunk driver_ in the air.

 

Against all odds, Saeran manages to push his way to the front of the crowd where he finds the remnants of the wreck. The last thing Saeran is aware of are the incoming sirens of fire trucks before his entire world mutes.

 

On the ground is an obvious pool of blood covered by an unmistakable black hoodie.

 

No, Saeran thinks as hysteria floods him like a tidal wave. This can’t happen. He can’t lose Saeyoung again, not when he’s finally starting to understand what it means to have a family again. When Saeran tries to retrieve the hoodie, he’s held back from disrupting the scene by two police officers. Saeran is aware that he’s shaking, or perhaps someone is shaking him, but all he wants to do is be with Saeyoung and to-

 

“Saeran-ah!” A familiar voice cuts through the haze.

 

Saeran spins around to find Saeyoung with a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong? What-?” Saeyoung stops when Saeran throws his body at him with full force, Saeyoung stumbling back a few steps until his hands wind around Saeran. “It’s okay,” he says, always quick to read the situation. “I’m okay.”

 

“I-” Saeran doesn’t know how to collect his thoughts. “Your jacket-”

 

“It’s fine,” Saeyoung whispers and runs a hand in soothing circles on Saeran’s back. “I saw the accident and pulled him out of the driver’s seat. He was bleeding so I took my jacket off to stop the blood. I’m okay, see? Your brother’s a hero.”

 

The joke falls flat, but Saeran finds that he still can’t let go of Saeyoung. “Don’t scare me like this,” Saeran hisses, fully aware that he’s now sobbing into Saeyoung’s shirt. “You’re too important.”

 

“I won’t,” Saeyoung says, just as his wife finally catch up to them. “I promise I’ll never force you to be alone again.”

 

Saeran believes him. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s late spring again when Yoosung invites them to a picnic. They pack enough food to feed Jumin’s entire company and meet the others at Hangang Park. Yoosung finds a good spot by the river while Jaehee aggressively insists they all apply bug spray. Zen gets pulled away by a group of grandmas who recognize his toothpaste commercial, and Saeyoung is assigned the task of rescuing him.

 

Something mundane like this feels like a fantasy Saeran had a lifetime ago. His sister in law notices his silence and asks, “Is everything alright?”

 

“Yes,” Saeran says and means it. His response catches her by surprise, and she pauses for a moment before giving him a blinding smile. 

 

Jaehee is interrupting Jumin’s inane speech about work when Saeyoung and Zen return. Zen flops down on the picnic blanket and laughs when Yoosung feeds him a piece of fruit. 

 

“I have a gift for you!” Saeyoung announces with an elaborate flourish. He does a trick with his hand and procures a flower in front of Saeran’s eyes. “Ta-dah! Applause, please!”

 

It’s a red marigold with splashes of gold on the inner petals. Saeran hasn’t seen one in a long time, and it occurs to him now that maybe his dreams aren’t too far from reality. 

 

Marigolds are capable of surviving the harshest of soils, as long as they receive enough sunlight. That’s a fact Saeran has always memorized, even when his heart felt barren and unyielding. Truthfully, Saeran doesn't know if he'll ever forgive what happened to him, but he's forgiven Saeyoung's part in it. There’s no use in holding onto lost time. The sun rotates every 24 days at its equator, but only once every 35 days near the poles. Even though they spun in opposite directions for so long, Saeran now knows that he can catch up to Saeyoung. 

 

“Hey,” Saeyoung says. “Want to hear a joke? What did the big flower say to the small flower?”

 

Saeran touches the petals on the marigold. “What?”

 

“What's up, bud?”

 

The laughter escapes Saeran’s mouth unexpectedly. He’s aware that everyone is staring at him in disbelief, but the look of unbridled happiness on Saeyoung’s face is worth it.


End file.
